Primogeniture
by Brutal Let Down
Summary: Lucifer knows that now more than ever, his brothers need him, but emotionally, he feels like a ghost. He's not sure how much longer he can keep up his strong façade in the wake of their father's eventual death, but meeting Sam Winchester lights a fire in him he didn't know he still had. Lucifer-centric, Samifer. (This is the side story to Inheritance, the Destiel-centric fic.)
1. Chapter 1

So, this is the side story I promised for my Destiel fic, Inheritance. For those who don't know, this is actually the point of view of Lucifer and Sam while still in the universe of my main fic. If you are confused by the story, refer to the main fic, and follow along.

So now I'm going to put in warnings, all of which would not fit in the description box. There, of course, will be explicit content in the future, drug use, violence, and many other things. Though if a chapter contains the more explicit themes, I will place a second warning.

 **(BLD)**

Lucifer had started smoking when he was 14, being pressured into it by his older friend, a 17 year old who got into a lot of petty fights on the street. Lucifer can't remember why he even hung out with him in the first place. Cain was his name. He had a younger brother that would follow them around, but Cain would always scare him off, threaten to cut him up if he told their mother. A lot of people would've stopped hanging out with Cain a long time ago, for any number of things he'd put Lucifer through.

But not Lucifer. No, he stayed by Cain's side threw thick and thin, and almost got himself arrested multiple times. A lot of people asked why Lucifer stayed with him, why he put up with it. Cain hardly treated him like the loyal friend he was, hitting him, verbally abusing him and even accusing him of some of the crimes Cain himself had done.

He would reply to those people by saying that he didn't mind. He didn't care that Cain was an asshole to him, because not once did Cain tell him to leave. Yes, he'd warned Lucifer that being around him was dangerous, but at his age he wasn't looking for anything safe. He'd been tired of being so sheltered his whole life, and when Cain moved to town, so many years ago, Lucifer knew right away he was different. He drove a motor cycle and wore clothes he'd never seen before. Cain taught him how to fight, and more importantly, how to win. He'd taught him how to wield a knife, how to use it, and how to hit vital organs. The things Cain had shown him were so taboo, there was no way he could tell his brothers he hung out with him. He knew for sure Michael would tell their parents, and Lucifer would be forbidden from seeing him again. It's not like Lucifer would've obeyed anything his parents would have told him, but he didn't need his parents breathing down his neck.

The last time he saw Cain, Lucifer was 16, and he was on his way to meet him at his house, but he found him loading his book bag with clothes and supplies outside, next to his bike. He told Lucifer he was running away, and he wasn't coming back. He told Lucifer that he wished he could bring him with him, because Lucifer had been the only friend he'd had in a long time, but he couldn't. Lucifer was too young, and he was afraid he'd get Lucifer hurt.

Lucifer had argued, saying his life was going to go back to the way it was before, and no one could fill the void that Cain would leave.

And then Cain kissed him.

He told Lucifer to remember him and make something of his life, because he had the means to, and because Cain didn't, not anymore. If Lucifer could be someone then he'd save Cain, in a small way. Lucifer hadn't realized he'd been crying until Cain wiped his tears away with his bandana.

Cain said good bye to him and it was the last he'd ever heard from him.

Lucifer sat on his back balcony, smoke rolling out of his mouth as he stared at the shifting branches of the giant sycamore tree that grows behind his home. He doesn't smoke as much as he used to, and as far as his family is concerned, he's quit a long time ago. But today had been hard, serving a food critic always gets him a little frazzled. This one had been from California, with hair a firey red color. Lucifer was certain she'd been drawn to the theme of the restaurant, because when she came in, he observed her tattoos of demonic references and her evil-esque aurora about her. Though she might have seemed novel, her praise is highly sought out on most of the west coast.

He didn't dwell on her, though, he knew he passed her inspection with flying colors. She raved about his place on her website. A few of his bus boys pulled it up on one of their smart phones and showed him while he was still on the line.

So really, his smoke break was more like a reward, like when Paul Sheldon finishes a book in _Misery_.

Lucifer sighed, leaning back in his chair. He thought about finishing off the grape juice in his fridge. Though he had only opened it a few days ago, Lucifer felt wine lost its taste with everyday that past after it was opened. Before he could debate over it any longer, Lucifer forced himself to stand up, smashing his cigarette out in a small clay pot, filled with sand and a few other butts.

Lucifer closed his balcony door behind him, sauntering through his living room, and pressed play on his sound system that sat on a built in shelf beside his TV. As he went to his kitchen the sounds of The Doors played throughout his house.

"Now touch me, babe…" Lucifer mumbled as he opened a cabinet and pulled out a wine glass. "Can't you see that I am not afraid?" he sang under his breath, reaching into his fridge and pulling out the nearly empty bottle of Pontet Canet. But before he could set it on the counter and start pouring, his phone began to vibrate in his pocket.

He sighed, setting his glass and bottle down on the counter and quickly pulled his phone from his pocket. He noticed it was Michael, and judging from how late it was, it must be urgent. He quickly went back to his sound system and pressed pause, "Michael? What's going on?" he asked, already concerned.

For a very long time, Michael didn't answer, and Lucifer was starting to think maybe his brother had accidentally butt dialed him. But after about a minute of silence, he finally spoke, "Lucifer… You need to come home." His voice was quiet, yet deadly serious.

Lucifer's brows furrowed, "What's wrong." He didn't ask, but demanded to know. His drink was forgotten as he went for his bedroom, going to slip on a jacket before he grabbed his keys.

"I just need you to be here right now. I'll tell you when you get here." And without another word, Michael hung up on Lucifer, leaving him floundering in his living room.

"Fuck…" Lucifer cursed. He then stared at his phone shaking his head, then shoved it into his jacket pocket. His house was a 15 minute drive from the family home, but Lucifer was determined to make it in less time, like he has before.

Lucifer quickly got out of his corvette, almost running to the front door. He'd noticed Kali and Gabriel's cars in the drive, realizing that this involved them as well. What did Michael need to tell them that involved Dad, Gabriel, Kali, and him? Whatever it was, he was about to find out soon enough. His heart was pounding, and whether it was pounding anxiously or merely out of the physical exertion of running the whole rest of the way to the door, he didn't know.

He flung the doors open, glad they were unlocked, and was quickly greeted by Michael. He stood just in front of the doorway to the living room, near the left staircase. "We're in here." He told him, his tone void of emotion, before turning and heading in himself.

Lucifer huffed, trying to regain his breath there for a moment. "What the fuck…" he groaned to himself. He ran his fingers through his short hair as he made his way to the living room. He felt his stomach roil, a sinking feeling setting in. He knew it was bad, whatever it was.

For a split moment he thought maybe something had happened to Castiel in Seattle. He'd always been worried about his youngest brother living out there by himself, so maybe today his nightmares were realized.

Once he got to the living room, he saw Gabriel standing, looking into the fireplace, then quickly turned to him, "Finally." He groused, "Can you please tell us why we're here now, Michael?" he asked, annoyed, looking to their older brother.

So Michael had made them wait for him to get there before he said anything. At least he had the decency to tell them all at once. But before Michael said a word, Lucifer saw Kali sitting on the couch, but there was no one else in the living room with them.

"Where's Dad?" he asked, looking to Michael. They were all gathered at the man's house, he should be throwing a fit like Gabriel was.

Michael then sighed, rubbing his hand over his face for a moment, "That's what we need to talk about." He told them, keeping his eyes covered for a moment.

Lucifer's eyes went wide. His body went ridged, a chill running up his spine, "Where's Dad…" he repeated, his tone serious.

Michael then let his hand fall away, taking in a large inhale, "Dad called me a couple hours ago… from the hospital." He began, and Kali gasped, while Gabriel exclaimed, "What!?"

"He told me he collapsed, and he thankfully had his phone on him to call an ambulance." He told them all, making sure to look each one of them in the eyes at one point or another.

"Well is he okay? Did he break his hip or something?" Gabriel began to ask.

"No…see… Dad told me that he'd collapsed… but his collapse happened a week ago. He's in the hospital because they're administering chemo to him." He told them, the last part he said more slowly, more deliberately.

Gabriel looked to Lucifer, and he gave his brother a glance back, "What are you saying, Michael?" he asked, though he knew exactly what he was saying. He just wanted to hear him say it.

"Dad's been diagnosed with brain cancer… and its terminal."

For a long time the room stayed silent, and Lucifer was no longer staring at his brother, but staring past him. He was having a hard time processing this information. Sure, he hadn't come by and seen his Dad in a while, maybe about a few months, but how had this gone on unnoticed?

Why hadn't he come and visited? Lucifer was suddenly realizing how little time he'd spent with his Dad this last part of the year. He'd been so busy lately with the restaurant, it had honestly slipped his mind. Lucifer felt a sudden rush of guilt, knowing he should've come by more often, even just to say 'Hi'.

"Michael…" he called out to his brother, his voice choked, like he were drowning, but he couldn't form words, he didn't know what he even wanted to say. So he reached out to him instead, trying to grasp onto him. But when he couldn't reach far enough, Michael gripped his forearm, squeezing it.

"Apparently this has been going on for some time. I don't know why he hasn't told any of us until now, but what we need to start doing his making phone calls." He told them, his hold on Lucifer tight.

He then looked toward the fire place, "I need to start getting his medical equipment in his room, so he's not staying in some hospital room for his…" Michael stopped himself before finishing his sentence, and Lucifer was certain he'd have said he didn't want Dad spending the last of his days in a hospital room. "I'm gonna be moving back in, to stay closer to Dad." He continued.

"I will, too." Lucifer finally spoke up, looking to Michael.

Michael gave him a tense, reassuring smile, "Okay, Lucifer."

"Me too." Gabriel piped in, taking a look back at Kali, as if to ask if it was alright, and she gave a small nod, telling him yes, it was fine.

"But…" Gabriel looked back to his brothers, "What about Castiel?" he asked, knowing this wasn't any easy task. They all knew that Castiel would be the one that took it harder than anyone else.

Lucifer began to slowly shake his head, "We can't tell him over the phone, one of us has to go to him-" "I'll do it." Gabriel interrupted Lucifer, volunteering himself immediately.

"If anyone is going to tell him, it's going to be me…" he told his brothers, his expression solemn.

Lucifer looked to Michael and he knew they were in agreeance, "Leave out tomorrow morning, early." He told Gabriel. "And don't be a jerk." Lucifer looked to Gabriel, sternly. "I know how you can be."

"Lucifer…" Gabriel looked to his brother, clearly shocked, "I think I know that now is not the fucking time to be joking around." He growled.

"Ya'know what, some times I can't tell if you know you've past a boundary, okay?" Lucifer barked at Gabriel, inching closer to him, threateningly.

"Jesus Christ, why don't you ever trust me?!" Gabriel yelled at Lucifer, emotions running high in the both of them. Before Gabriel could make more of an argument, and really lay into Lucifer, Michael pushed him and Lucifer both firmly in the chest, sending them at least a foot away from each other. Not only did it create more distance between the quarreling brothers, but it knocked the wind out of them, calming them down some what.

"You both need to shut the hell up." He glanced at the both of them, wanting each of them to see how serious he was now. "Gabriel, go home and start packing." He told their youngest brother, using his absolute authority glare at him, making sure he got no lip back.

As Gabriel rubbed at the spot on his chest that Michael jabbed, he glared at Lucifer, slowly walking from the living room without breaking eye contact. Kali sighed, standing and following after Gabriel, but before she left the living room she commented to Michael, "I'll make sure he's ready to go early in the morning." And she was gone along with Gabriel.

Lucifer glared at the wall ahead of him, "I can't believe we're arguing…" he mumbled, not making any attempt to own up to the fact that he'd been the one to start it.

Michael sighed, "I've been on the phone with the hospital most of the day, trying to get equipment. I still need to hire private nurses." He shook his head slowly, "The least you can do for me is let the family know." He told Lucifer, sauntering out of the living room. Silently, Lucifer followed after him.

"Tell Aunt Naomi and Uncle Metatron first, then our cousins, then everyone else." He spoke, making his way to the den, where he undoubtedly wanted to make himself a drink. "But for the love of God…" he turned around swiftly to Lucifer, needing him to look him in the eye for this. "Tell them to not say a word to Castiel."

Lucifer furrowed his brows, not comprehending why, but then realized, "Right. You don't want them beating Gabriel to the punch." He mumbled.

"Exactly." Michael exhaled, "That's all I need right now, a thousand different people calling and texting Castiel all at once." He scoffed, delicately handling the scotch bottle while he poured two glasses. He then turned slightly to hand one off to Lucifer. "Even though he hasn't said it, I know he feels bad about leaving us all behind here."

Lucifer nodded, "I know." He took a small sip from his glass. "He's never been very vocal about his feelings, but we can read him like a book…" Lucifer looked to Michael, "How do you think he's going to take it?"

Michael shrugged once, "We can't say for sure. I know he was closer to mother, and we know how that ended." He pointed out, "I know he'll be shocked at first, like we were. He'll have a lot of questions. Some of which I don't even have answers to yet." He looked back to Lucifer, "Did you know that Dad didn't even want the hospital to call me? The only reason he eventually let them was because if they didn't call me he wouldn't be allowed out without a signature from his next of kin." He shook his head.

Lucifer sighed, "That man…"

Michael and Lucifer carried on for a while after Gabriel left, but eventually Lucifer had to make his way to his house before it got too late. Michael said equipment should be arriving in the afternoon tomorrow, and that night their father would be transported from the hospital to the house after things were all hooked up properly. He said he'd hoped to have hired some nurses before then, but he didn't know how many would be so readily available.

The drive back to his home was dark, and without the desire to listen to the radio it was quiet. His mind kept wandering, and there was more than one time that he drifted to the side of the road and needed to adjust himself back on the path.

Lucifer neglected to turn on the porch light before he left, so he fumbled around with his keys for a moment until he found the keychain light to help him to the door. Once inside, he took a deep inhale. He then dropped his keys to the floor.

He slowly drifted through his house, ghosting down the halls. His jacket ended up on the main hall floor, its importance forgotten for the moment. After finally getting to his room, Lucifer barely made sure that when he sat, he'd end up on his bed, and just collapsed on his bed, like the pressure of what he'd been told added an extra weight to him now.

He'd already decided that he wasn't going to be calling anyone right now, or at all for the rest of the night. In fact, he wasn't even going to be packing or heading back over to the house. All of that didn't seem important that moment, and he bet he could stay there, just like that, for the rest of his life and the world would keep turning. Things needed to be done, but for the life of him he couldn't find the care to do them.

No, Lucifer was going to sit on his bed and try to hold back tears for his father…


	2. Chapter 2

I'm gonna go ahead and warn you readers that this chapter depicts drug use, so don't be shocked when it comes up. Though if we've been following closely with Sam's storyline, I don't think any of you will be. c:

 **(BLD)**

He met her one night at a party.

It was his first college party, and much like he expected, it wasn't his type of crowd. They were loud and obnoxious and all they talked about were the girls they'd hooked up with the night previous. The only reason he'd went was so he could take a break from the routine he'd adopted since he'd started attending Boise Sate University that August. He woke up, went to class, ate lunch, finished the day with his last class, went back to his dorm room to study and write essays, then ate a measly dinner of cup ramen then slept. He'd done this for two months when he finally realized he needed a break. His room mate, a tall basketball player, invited him out when Sam preached this to him.

He'd gone with him to the frat house, drank one beer, awkwardly laughed along with the others when they joked about treating girls like trash. They were the kind of guys who got into college purely based on their athleticism, and found ways to avoid doing any actual school work by paying big bucks for some other student to do it for them. They wear muscle shirts to every function or event and constantly smell of B.O. Most of them knew that they'd already peaked at their potential and would probably never be drafted into the NBA, and after college, they'd have nothing going for them, so they lived it up while they still could. Needless to say, while they were too busy trying to make a keg stand happen, he made a swift exit.

It was while he was walking back to his dorm that he heard music coming from one of the houses on the same street, though it was the kind that he preferred, rather than the dubstep the meat heads were listening to. They were playing Foster the People, and they were one of his favorite new bands. He found himself gravitating towards the smaller looking house, maybe four or five rooms. He wasn't even sure if it was a frat house, or even a sorority. But he didn't care at the moment. He felt sort of shitty, just being around those jocks. It was like he was suffering from second hand asshole.

He took a seat on the first step of the house and decided he would leave after the song was done. He just hoped that no one from inside would see him and think he were up to anything suspicious. That was the last thing he needed, being chased off a porch with a broom.

Unfortunately, he was spotted in less than a minute, and the front door opened. He immediately turned to start apologizing, but when he saw the woman who had stepped out was only smiling down at him, he couldn't help but to smile back.

"Hi." He greeted her, some what meekly.

"Hi." She greeted back with a small wave. "So uh… What are you doing?" she asked, obviously more amused by the situation than aggravated, like how Sam would've imagined her to be.

"Well, I've just had a pretty crappy night, and I was walking back to my dorm… and I heard this music playing and its actually one of my favorite songs right now… and I just had to sit and listen to it for awhile." He explained.

The woman laughed, then surprisingly, she came forward and sat on the step alongside Sam. "I think I can relate. How bad was it?" she inquired, and leaned back, setting her elbows against the stairs behind her.

Sam chuckled, shaking his head a bit, "Well, I wanted to take a break from all my studies and went to a party." He told the mystery girl.

"Oh wow, that sounds really crappy." She agreed with Sam sardonically, nodding her head.

Sam chuckled harder, "No, no, see, it was a jock party and they were all jerks and assholes and I just couldn't take it, so I bailed after one beer."

The woman laughed, "Oh, now I see." She snickered, "You're talking about the guys just down the road, right?" she asked, jerking her thumb in the direction Sam had come from.

"Yes, they are _exactly_ who I'm talking about." Sam nodded, smiling to her.

"Yea, those guys are total burnouts." She commented, staring up at the sky.

Sam furrowed his brows, "Those guys do drugs?" Though they didn't act like any normal human being, he doubted any of them were using.

The woman laughed, "Well all they do is talk about chicks, booze and games, and they never really do much work, so they might as well be burnouts. Albeit, they'd be their own version."

Sam rolled his eyes, "Yea, okay."

The girl looked at him with a grin, knowing he wasn't impressed by her observations, "What's your name, Mister?" she finally asked.

"Sam." He answered quickly, "Sam Winchester." He then stuck out his hand to her, inviting a handshake.

She glanced down at his hand for a moment, then took his hand, "I'm Ruby Hecate. Pleased to meet you."

From that point on, Sam made it a habit to stop by her place after class. He found out that she lived there with her friends, and split the rent four ways, which made living there very convenient, and manageable. Rather quickly he'd grown a liking to her, and he was certain she'd started feeling the same way almost at the same time. Eventually, Ruby and Sam started dating, and almost two weeks into the relationship, he moved in with her. It seemed smart at the time, now splitting rent five ways, and having more space than in his cramped dorm with his roommate.

It wasn't before long that Ruby started influencing him and his decisions, starting out small, with maybe changing his order at the local coffee shop, or making him buy things for the entire household, knowing he'd never get paid back for it. But soon, she started pressuring him into doing things, things that he later on realized he wasn't entirely okay with. For example, he'd become one of those students that wrote up essays to sell off to slackers for a price. He was surprised how much money he made that way, and at first it made him feel empowered.

Unfortunately, his entrepreneurial ways were not the worst of it. Soon, Ruby started showing her more wild side, little by little, and honestly, it had become harder to hide it from Sam now that they lived together.

Ruby was the one who wrapped the belt around his arm, and told him she wanted him to feel the way she felt. He watched as she heated the spoon with her black zippo lighter, and smiled at him with her half lidded eyes. All the while, Sam found that he could do nothing to stop it. Or rather… he didn't want to stop it. He let Ruby take over his life, and this was the next journey she was taking him on. He knew exactly what she was doing, and he knew exactly what he'd become afterwards.

A user.

The stigma of the phrase alone should have scared him off, and away from Ruby, but he'd become so invested with her, he couldn't see any way of untangling himself. He knew if he did, everything he'd done with her would come crashing down around him.

He knew if he allowed her to do this it would take some of the pain away from that fact, but unfortunately it also made the pain worse.

Sam sucked in a sharp breath as the needle was pierced into his skin, but Ruby quickly leant forward and sealed her lips onto his, as if to distract him from the pain, but he still felt every bit of it. He twitched and grimaced as the hot liquid was injected into him…

But almost immediately afterward Ruby removed the belt, and Sam felt it course through him. It didn't take long for him to feel the effects, the mind numbing rush of pleasure, a heavy pit in his stomach. He fell back on the bed, his mind fuzzy with the feeling that everything was alright in that moment, and things weren't so bad.

He hadn't noticed Ruby administer a dose to herself, but soon enough she was laying on the bed with him, smiling dreamily. He smiled back, though it felt like a sluggish gesture. He let his hand graze down the slope of her cheek, but his arm grew tired, and his hand fell away from her a moment later.

They laid like that for the whole experience, soft music playing in the living room, slightly muffled. Sam stared into her eyes, and though he felt this surreal pleasure, it still felt bitter, and tainted. In the back of his mind he could imagine the look on his mother's face if she were still alive… and saw what he'd become.


	3. Chapter 3

Lucifer hardly ate when he woke the following morning. He took a few bites out of a granola bar and couldn't stomach anything else. He knew he'd be paying for it before lunch could roll around, but he had a sinking suspicion he wouldn't be eating then, either.

He sat on his couch, elbows on his knees as he looked at the screen of his phone, going through his contacts. He knew Michael told him to call their Aunt and Uncle first… But he was fairly certain they wouldn't be able to keep their mouths shut like he would ask them to, so he decided to call his cousins first, instead. He started with their eldest cousin, Gadreel, Metatron's son.

It rang twice before he answered, "Lucifer, how are you doing?" he spoke in a chipper tone, his accent, which always seemed so foreign to Lucifer, was slightly restrained.

He sighed, "I'm doing fine, Gadreel. Are you at work? Are you busy?" he asked, hoping he wasn't interrupting something. Being the CEO of their Richmond, Virginia office was a demanding job, and technically it was a lot later in the afternoon for him, so there was a possibility of calling at a bad time.

"I _am_ at work, but I can talk. Why, what's going on?" Gadreel asked, sensing right away that something was amiss.

Lucifer stared at the edge of his coffee table, right where a chip was made in the glass after a heavy glass bottle slipped from his hands and made the small dent. He wasn't entirely sure of how to word this. "It's about my Dad." He began. "Gadreel, he's been… diagnosed with Brain Cancer." He finally got out, realizing there was really no proper or improper way of doing it.

Gadreel let out a small gasp, "Oh my God… What kind of treatment will he be going through? What stage is it at?" Gadreel started asking questions, and Lucifer realized he didn't know the answer to most of them.

"Gadreel, Gadreel," Lucifer spoke, gaining his cousin's attention, "I just found out last night. There are still a lot of things we don't know, but we'll be figuring a lot of that out today." He told him, straightening out some of the issues. "Unfortunately…" he began again, but Lucifer's lips started to curl unpleasantly, causing him to bite down hard on his lip, to try and make them stop. "We've been given this information months after the diagnosis."

There was a long silence on the other end, and then finally Gadreel let out a sigh, "That doesn't surprise me. That man is more stubborn than an Ox." He mumbled.

Lucifer sighed, rubbing a hand down his face, "Okay, listen. I don't want you telling anyone, not even your Dad. But I especially don't want you talking to Castiel, at least not until I give you the go ahead."

"I can understand why I can't tell my father," Gadreel confessed, knowing that everyone was on the same page when it came to Metatron, "But why not Castiel?"

"Because Gabriel is on his way there right now, probably. I think he leaves out in about an hour. We want Castiel to be told in person, and we want to give Gabriel enough time to break it to him." He explained, rubbing his fingers into the side of his head.

"Alright, it's good that he's doing that." Gadreel spoke, "I want you to give me any and all information that you get, Lucifer. I don't want to be left out of this." He told him. "I'll try and make it there as soon as I can."

Lucifer nodded to himself, "Thanks, Gadreel." His cousin then went on to explain his schedule, and that as soon as he could get a proper man or woman in place to hold down the fort in Richmond he'd be there with them. And Lucifer was so thankful for that. He knew Michael, and he knew that he had a limit. He was sure that he'd be as strong as ever through the whole situation, but right when the floor comes out from underneath them… He didn't know if he'd still be standing or fall like the rest of them.

Next up was Anna.

Lucifer groaned, his head falling back onto his couch head rest. He didn't want to be the one doing this. He knew for a fact that Anna would get choked up, and then Lucifer himself would get choked up and they'd both be crying over the phone to each other. "Fuck it." Lucifer mumbled.

He then dialed the number for Samandriel.

* * *

Lucifer couldn't sit at the house or his father's house all day. Michael was getting medical supplies set in their father's room, and there were members of the community, prominent members, who were trying to get into the house to see Michael, or to see if their father had come home from the hospital yet. He couldn't be there with all that hectic bullshit was going on. He needed peace and relaxation.

So of course he chose to go into work today, helping prep for dinner alongside his chefs.

The mood in the kitchen seemed to be tense. Of course, people had seen the commercial truck pulling into their personal avenue, with the name of some big medical company on the side. Michael didn't want to wait for nightfall, giving them at least some sort of seclusion. Word traveled fast, and now it was common knowledge in throughout the town. The community knew something was wrong with their father, the town's richest man, but they didn't quite know what.

None of his staff was willing to come up to him and ask, either. They knew not.

Well, most of them at least, because to his displeasure, Alastair came sauntering up beside him, "What are you doing in here today, Boss? Isn't your father sick?" he asked, picking up a knife and limply grabbed up some romaine lettuce and began to chop on the cutting board next to Lucifer's.

Lucifer glanced scantly at Alastair, "What are _you_ doing here? I heard your tact was missing." He mumbled back at him, a subtle warning to back off the topic. "I'm here to work, Alastair, not gab." He then expertly grabbed the knife out of his hand without causing any cuts or injuries and set it back down on the board.

"Whoa, sorry Luci. I was just curious." He spoke, his hands lifting in surrender.

"Sometimes I'm curious what it would be like to stab a man." He growled, looking Alastair straight in the eyes, his full body turning to him, knife in hand. The kitchen went silent, and the whole staff watched the scene, no one brave enough to separate the two.

Alastair gave a smirk, "Hey, you and me both, Buddy." He chuckled to himself, walking off back to his proper section.

Lucifer gave a huff, his shoulders falling as the situation died down. It was only when Lucifer got back to work that the others followed suit. And of course it was at that moment that Lilith decided to come over, probably wanting to gage his state of mind, or in other words, bother the shit out of him.

"Lucifer, I am so sorry about that. I should have told him not to say anything." She spoke in a hushed manner, not wanting any others to hear their 'private' conversation.

Lucifer gave a terse, bark of a laugh, "Not like he would've listened. Still would've been an ass." He mumbled, hardly looking her way.

Lilith grinned, "You're right, what am I thinking." She waved her hand in a dismissive manner, "He'll always be that way, unfortunately." She sighed afterward.

"Yea, not after I fucking murder him." He growled mostly to himself, chopping unnecessarily hard at his lettuce.

Lilith laughed, lightly swatting at Lucifer's shoulder, "Oh, stop it." She mumbled, then looked around, hoping no one had heard that outburst.

Lucifer then set his knife down and looked straight ahead with dead eyes, "Lilith…" he got her attention, then looked at her for the first time, "Will you please stop trying to flirt with me and get back to work?" he grinned, clearly not in a talkative mood, and clearly not in the mood to play this little game of cat and mouse with her.

Lilith seemed to get the message, because without another word, she turned and went back to her station.

When the fuck had his sanctuary become just as bad as his house? He thought that of all people who would give him what he wanted, it would be his staff. But of course not. Lucifer stayed, though, gritting his teeth. The night would be long, but when the business came in, there would be no time to talk and gossip, as if he couldn't hear them.

It was odd, though, how Lucifer was so easily agitated tonight. Not odd as in unexplainable, because he knew why. But meaning that things that hadn't bothered him before now bothered him immensely. Like Alastair's whistling. He would always whistle some show tune, and it was actually quite pleasant, but today, he just seemed so smug. All it took was a mean look sent his way in the middle of _I'm in Heaven_ and Alastair shut right the hell up.

And the Bus boys, Jesus Christ, the Bus Boys. On any given day, you'd see them exchanging pictures to one another on their phones, though that was usually when there wasn't much business, on a slow night, and they had some free time. Lucifer didn't mind, because they kept up with the work, and didn't get in anyone's way. But today, watching them laugh at each and pointing at their screens, Lucifer got pissed.

"Scott! Max! Back to work!" he shouted across the kitchen, undoubtedly startling everyone else with his booming authoritative voice.

The two younger men jumped, the dark haired one dropping his phone altogether. He quickly picked it back up and shoved it in his pocket while the other grabbed up a plastic tub to scour the dining area for dishes. Though they had just recently opened the doors for business, there really wasn't much for the young men to find, but the blond one left out of the kitchen anyway. The dark haired one checked the dishes that were still washing from prep earlier in the afternoon, and simply made it look like he were busy.

Lucifer kept a critical eye on Scott, his eyes narrowed. Eventually he looked back to his dish, trying to focus once again.

Ellsworth, his kitchen manager, who was in the middle of calling out an order, "One grilled tuna salad, one broccoli and cheese…" stopped suddenly, causing Lucifer to glance up. A waiter was in whispering something in his ear, then made a glance at Lucifer, and jumped slightly when he realized he was staring back at him.

"What is it?" he asked, gaining Ellsworth's attention. The older man, made a grimace, then glared at the waiter. He swiftly left the kitchen and went back out onto the floor. Lucifer growled under his breath, frustrated, and quickly finished the dish he was on and plated it, setting it up for a waiter to take off later. He then went directly to Ellsworth, "What is going on, damnit." He fumed.

Ellsworth sighed, "I just got a request from a customer to speak with you." He told Lucifer, calmly. "But I strongly advice against it." He told Lucifer, looking at him as if trying to communicate something silently to him. Unfortunately, Lucifer wasn't picking up on it.

"What table?" he asked, not showing any response to his warning other than determination. Ellsworth only sighed, and pointed out the table closest to the kitchen doors. Lucifer slipped the hand cloth that had been lying over his shoulder off and folded it into his apron, leaving the kitchen. He was never one to disappoint his customers, especially when they wanted to thank the chef. So, with a broad, albeit fake, smile he walked into the dining area, and made his way to the table.

"Hello Folks, how can I help you? Is everything alright?" he asked, knowing that everything was fine, but it showed that he cared about their satisfaction when he asked.

There was an elderly couple sitting at the table, both overly dressed for the semi-formal, semi-casual dress code, in the middle of their main course and a glass of wine. The woman, a small, fragile looking thing with ghost white hair spoke up, "Oh, everything is delightful, Chef." Her voice was almost a whisper, but Lucifer was able to hear her. Then the husband spoke up, "Yes, it couldn't be better!" he echoed, boisterously. He was a portly man, and it seemed the parts of the woman that had withered away had been given to him.

Lucifer nodded, "That's good to hear. Let me know if there's anything else I can do for you-" "We called you out here to give you our condolences, Chef." The husband spoke, talking over him.

Lucifer had been about ready to leave the table, in a better mood then when he came to it, but when the man spoke over him, he couldn't quite hear a part of it, but he caught the last part. His smile fell, and his mouth sat agape for a moment.

"I…" Lucifer began to say something, but whatever it was dried in his throat, and was forgotten. How had they known? When had it been determined by the town that his father was going to die, without any hope of saving him? Had the community given up on him?

The wife then put a hand on Lucifer's arm, "I know it can be hard to lose a loved one, Sweetie, but remember that you have people that love you and will be by your side." She rubbed at his arm soothingly, a small smile on her face.

Lucifer gave a half smile, then set a hand on her's, "Thank you, Ma'am. I really appreciate that." He wasn't sure what other bullshit he spouted, but whatever it was, it was convincing enough because they both smiled, and bid him a farewell as he walked away.

Lucifer didn't look at Ellsworth as he walked past him or any of his staff as he went to his small office. He opened the first drawer of his desk and pulled out a half empty pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He left and headed out the back entrance, having not said a word, though no one needed to know his business.

Lucifer leaned against the building, packing his cigarettes before slipping one out. He placed the slim stick between his lips, and it was as he lifted the lighter after it that he realized his hands were shaking.

Lucifer quickly took the cigarette out of his mouth and shoved it in his pocket and simply folded his arms over his chest. He closed his eyes, trying hard not to let his emotion get the better of him. But it was no use. Lucifer began to shake, his brows furrowing.

"Fuck…" he whimpered, as he covered his face in his hands and sank to the ground, sitting against the building, crying softly.


	4. Chapter 4

He had tried breaking it off. Multiple times.

At first she'd wept, begging him to stay, making promises he knew she wouldn't keep. But soon she began making threats. Most of them were empty, promising to torch his belongings while he was in class, ruin his life by getting knocked up, though he was certain she hadn't thought that last one through before spouting it.

But the worst threat by far was her telling Dean everything. It didn't matter if he thought she would or not, he couldn't risk it. Ruby was just that crazy that she would actually contact Dean and tell him about the drugs, the selling, the cheating… No, he couldn't let her do it. He had to put up with it for a little bit longer. He wasn't sure for how long, and he actually wasn't sure how he would resolve the issue at the end of _a little bit longer_ , but he had to come up with something. Even if it meant telling Dean himself, he couldn't stay with her.

So he told himself, _just a little bit longer._ Soon his nightmare of a relationship would be over. _Just a bit longer._

It had been two years ago, before college, that he'd lost Jessica. He tried not to think about her too much, too afraid of becoming emotional. But after being with Ruby for so long, he realized how much he still missed her. The funny thing was, he'd only gotten into this relationship to help him get over her.

It was just before they graduated, talking about how it was going to be hard for them, being in a long-distance relationship. Sam wanted to attend college close to home, while Jessica was going to attend Stanford in California. It was only when Jessica began to drift during their conversation that he realized something was wrong.

When he asked what was up, she gave a sigh and told him. Jessica had decided that it would be too hard to maintain their relationship with such a _great_ distance. Sam had argued about the fact that it actually wasn't that great of a distance, and how easily she was willing to accept their break-up. But no matter what Sam said, Jessica had obviously made up her mind. After the final break-up is when Sam realized that it wasn't just a spur of the moment thing, Jessica had been thinking about this for some time.

A week after Sam moved into his dorm in Boise he got word through the grape vine that Jessica had already hooked up with someone else. Though the real shocker was the fact that it was his old high school buddy, Brady, who coincidently was also going to Stanford. Sam also heard rumors, though if he was intended to hear them or not, he didn't know. A lot of his friends were saying that Jessica had been seeing Brady behind his back, and that they only found out after Jessica posted multiple pictures of her and him, some new, and most of them old. There were pictures of him and her together at the Christmas tree that's set up annually at the Carver park in town. But the pictures were taken the year before Sam and Jessica's break-up, he was told.

If Jessica had truly been cheating on him, he didn't want to know. It would only bring more hurt. He tried hard not to think about it, but with each grueling day passing, it became harder and harder.

And then he got into the wreck.

He couldn't quite remember what caused it, but all he did remember was an impact then spinning in the night air. He passed out for a while after that and when he woke, Dean was there. His first thought was that he hadn't realized Dean would come all the way out to Boise at such a late hour.

Then his second thought was where the hell was Ruby…

He asked Dean and all Dean would say was that she was caught up somewhere. He asked when she would get here and Dean could only look away, a hint of anger in his eyes. Sam was able to piece things together for himself, and realized Ruby simply wasn't going to come out to see him at the hospital. Honestly, though, he hadn't been surprised. He didn't know why he even wanted her there in the first place.

It was Dean that helped him get back on his feet after that, and it was Dean that started telling him that he needed to ditch Ruby. A seed of hatred had been planted in him that night, and ever sense then, Dean has never wanted to be in her presence ever again. He couldn't blame him.

That's when the lies began. Dean kept asking him why he was even still with her, and why was staying. All Sam could say was that he had his reasons. At point he'd even told him that she was going through something, and he didn't want to leave her hanging like that. Then Dean pointed out the situation at the hospital.

Sam almost couldn't deny it anymore, he was going to have to come clean. With each pacing day, he wondered… was today the day?

Was it going to be today that my brother loses all respect for me?

Sam had eventually had enough. Enough of Ruby, enough of the lies. He had made a plan, to tell Dean at the end of the week, so he could see him on the weekend and ease him into it. He was also planning to move out of his shared dwellings with Ruby after he came back.

But on Wednesday of that week he got a call from Dean first. Their father had gone missing.

At first Sam didn't want to think anything of it. Their father was a grown man, and if he wanted to get away for a while he was allowed to. But then Dean told him that they'd found their dad's truck behind the post office, keys still in the ignition.

Sam packed a bag that same hour and booked it for home. He was in such a determined mood that he didn't even bother to tell Ruby before she got back from classes. It took him less time than usual to get home, and he was at their childhood home, knocking on the front door, no less than two hours after Dean had initially called him.

Everyone was there, Dean, Bobby, Benny, Ellen, Jo, and Officer Mills. There were even more people there, some he didn't recognize, most of them were detectives. But there were two men, one lanky tall man, who kept rubbing his hands together, and another who looked to be hating the skin he was in, making glances at everyone in the room with a small amount of distaste and distrust.

They were introduced as Kubrick and Gordon. Apparently they were friends of John's. Neither Dean nor Sam had ever seen or heard of them, but they didn't doubt that they had known their father. They have the same kind of mannerisms, and behavior, the same shifty eyes. They looked like they hated being in a room with so many people in it, especially law enforcement.

It was instantaneous, and he was sure it was the same way for Dean. But Sam found himself hating them, without even hearing their voices, he hated them. He was certain these men were the ones who had corrupted their father's mind. He then made a subtle glance back at his brother and he saw the disdain in him. He made a straight glare at the one named Gordon. He wasn't sure if he'd missed something or not, but Dean was definitely angry about something.

Sam was later sat down and asked many questions about his father, about the last time he spoke with him, what he said, if he mentioned he was going to be doing something out of state in the future. Of course Sam gave them the same answers as Dean, because they'd both been told the same thing by their father, which, as a matter of fact, was absolutely nothing.

But it seemed their dad's friends had a lot to tell the police, though of course they didn't want to say anything in front of Sam or Dean, for what reason, they didn't know. Sam knew it pissed Dean off just like it did him, but there was nothing they could do. Eventually the two men left, in a big rush and a hurry like they had somewhere to be, though Sam doubted it.

Sam and Dean eventually left the main room, drifting into the kitchen where they were alone. They didn't speak, not a word. It was silent between them, though each other knew they wanted to say so much. They wanted to ask questions, ask why he would have done this, where could he have gone. But they both knew it would be fruitless. So they stayed quiet.

* * *

It was around mid-day and he was in the car with Ellen and Jo, on their way to post pictures on lamp posts and buildings. The picture on the paper was John Winchester, his father, but the man who went missing was someone completely different. The man in the picture was smiling, holding up a beer glance for the camera. Bobby had taken that picture; it was their father's birthday that day. Sam was still in high school, but Dean was old enough to be there with them to drink. He remembered the night when they came back, Dean was worse off than their dad was, and he was laughing as they stumbled in, carrying most of Dean's weight on one shoulder.

Dean kept mumbling something about camping, and John kept assuring him that yes, they would go camping later that year.

John gathered up Sam Dean and Adam and they went camping that year, and it's been a tradition ever since. Though, the tradition excluded John a few years ago, after he decided that attending a gun show was more important.

Ellen spoke up in the car, her tone hushed, almost a whisper, as if not to upset Sam, "Did you grab the wood stapler?" she asked Jo, who sat in the back. Sam sat in the passenger seat.

"Yea." She replied, looking through the cloth bag she had brought. "And the masking tape." She tacked on.

"Good." Ellen replied, sounding preoccupied as she looked for a parking spot to keep the car as they walked around town.

Sam kept staring at the picture, memories flooding his mind, and it wasn't until Ellen set a hand over his, setting atop the missing person flyers did he look up at her. At it wasn't until then that he realized there were a few tears welled up in his eyes. He quickly wiped them away, looking anywhere else other than Ellen and opened the passenger door. He didn't like the sympathy in her eyes, the way she looked like she herself were about to cry. He hadn't noticed Jo had saddled up beside him until she was offering him the wood stapler.

"Here." She mumbled, setting the stapler to his hand.

He grasped it, muttering a "Thank you." Then slipped the papers into her waiting hands and Sam quickly went up to the nearest wooden post and took a flyer from the pile and began stapling the corners.

It was a tedious task, mindless, and Sam was okay with that. The only part he didn't like was how all throughout the day, a yearning had been burning inside him. The need was unreal, and it made him jittery, and antsy. He kept glancing around himself, making sure no one saw how messed up he was.

He hadn't realized how easily the addiction set in, even after only four hits on four separate days.

All he needed was one fix, just something to pick him up. He knew he'd told himself never again, but the urge was burning holes through his skin. If felt so powerless like this, like his soul was slowly being ripped from his body. He _needed_ it, and Sam was quickly racking his mind on how to find some. He'd flushed the last bit he had a week ago, and severed all ties with the dealers he'd associated with.

He kept stapling papers to posts, while Ellen had ventured in the opposite direction of the car, taping flyers to buildings and windows, so it was just him and Jo. His hands were shaking, and he kept wiping sweat from his forehead, trying to stop it from getting in his eyes and stinging.

"Sam?" she had spoken up after about fifteen minutes of posting flyers.

Sam went still for a moment, unwilling to look her in the eyes, "Yea?" he asked, as he made himself keep staring at the road, as if waiting to cross it.

"Um…" Jo obviously didn't know how to approach it, and Sam knew she wanted to ask what was wrong, but she wasn't going to. Of course something was wrong, his father was missing. But Jo wasn't dumb, she could see that there was something else underfoot going on here. "Did you want to… maybe talk for a minute?"

Sam then stopped his charade and decided to try and dissuade her worries. "Alright." He spoke, then turned and headed into a nearby coffee shop. There wasn't a lot of business, only a few people sitting at some tables. Sam chose to sit close to the front, setting the stapler down on the table, and he stared at it.

Jo sat across from him, setting the flyers in the empty seat between them, "Sam… You don't seem…well." She tried to tiptoe around it, and Sam could sense the struggle she had with it.

He sighed, his head falling back, trying to keep calm, though he was sweating like crazy, "I don't know, Jo. I think something's wrong. I feel sick, and light headed." He lied, putting his forehead into the palm of his hand while his elbow rested on the table top. Though he was trying to convince Jo that what he was going through was an illness, his withdraw symptoms were very much real. He wasn't sure how much longer he could go around town posting their flyers without vomiting.

"Do you want to see a doctor?" she asked, obviously worried.

"No, no… I know it's just stress." He shook his head, "I'll get over it. It's just…" he looked up to Jo, "It's been a long day, ya'know?"

Jo nodded, understanding, "Don't worry, Sam. He'll turn up, I know it." She then gave him a small smile.

Sam went to smile back at her, but then stopped. He knew whatever came out would be shabby and broken, so he didn't try. How could she know? She was just as clueless as him, if not more so. He couldn't take comfort in her naive words. "Do you want to get a drink? Maybe get something for your mom, too?" he asked Jo, trying to change the subject.

Jo perked up, "Can I get a cappuccino?" she asked, obviously having not been allowed to drink such drinks around her mother.

Sam gave a lazy smirk, "Yea, I'll get you a cappuccino." And he stood, going up to make their orders. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his shaking nerves. As he stood in line, behind only one other person, he kept wondering how long he could keep this up before he either cracked and went to find a fix or completely collapsed.

He kept repeating a mantra in his mind, to help his keep going, to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

 _Just a bit longer._

 _Just a little bit longer._


End file.
